


once it was wonderful

by Nottodaylogic (MandaloreArtist)



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Gefilte Fish as a Metaphor, Gen, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, So yea, Somewhat, also the title is from a song from a new brain, and there’s major character death, even jf it’s sad and old writing, i think I’m clever please tell me I’m clever, so I’m just campaigning for more lesbians content, this is falsettos, you know what we’re dealing with yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandaloreArtist/pseuds/Nottodaylogic
Summary: Charlotte is devastated, working day and night, and her mind won’t stop whirring, worrying.Cordelia understands this, but she’s going to do her best to keep this crumbling family together.Although glue and batter aren’t exactly interchangeable...(i wrote this a while ago while sad and thinking about the lesbians after falsettos)(Edited 2/5/2020 for formatting)





	once it was wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> this is Old Writing, but my Discord pals told me to post it so here you go!
> 
> this is me campaigning for more content of the lesbians, even if it’s kinda sad haha

Her doctor was sad.

Her doctor was broken.

Her doctor had no life in her, no spark, no passion, none of what Cordelia had fallen in love with.

Luckily, Cordelia _did_ love Charlotte, and she didn’t exactly blame her. Whizzer’s death had taken its toll on her too. She kept dreaming, dreaming of his face, of their friendship, of the taste of the gefilte fish, failed and burned, on her mouth. The smell had filled their kitchen for days on end. It was still there, if you tried hard enough to smell it.

Nothing in the recipe had changed that last day, and yet it still had only tasted good the day of Jason’s bar mitzvah.

They’d eaten the leftovers for weeks.

She still tried to replicate it. There were bowls and bowls of gefilte fish, all tasting the same: like failure. Garbage bags full of them, disposed of before her doctor could see.

Not that Charlotte would notice.

She had doven headfirst in her work, working night and day to do what she couldn’t do for Whizzer, to save lives, to save Marvin.

Not long after Whizzer had left, Marvin had collapsed when going through his belongings.

Now, Cordelia had nightmares of a repeated bar mitzvah.

She tried talking to Trina, to Mendel, but they were too preoccupied with trying to help Marvin that they couldn’t help her. Couldn’t help Charlotte. Jason was sullen, morbid, sad. Devastated.

She tried reaching out to him.

He was staying over tomorrow, maybe she could help him.

Could help Charlotte.

Her doctor had always been the one helping others, taste testing for Cordelia, saving lives, taking Jason to his baseball, bringing wine and offers of companionship to Whizzer and Marvin, bringing hugs and support to Marvin.

Now, Cordelia found herself in need of help, but the only way to do that was to help Charlotte.

She threw away yet another pot of gefilte fish.

Charlotte used to always come home with stories of the people she saved, of their faces. The times Cordelia had to comfort her, after yet another failed remedy, had been few.

Now, it seemed that was every day. The times Charlotte saved people didn’t cheer her up like they used to. She would only talk about her failures, of Marvin.

Marvin, whose features only grew more gaunt, who only looked more sickly, more pale.

Whizzer had looked the same before he went.

The door opened. In came Charlotte duBois, her doctor, the absent love of her life. Cordelia dumped the latest round of bar mitzvah cuisine and went to hug her. Charlotte’s lips turned up a little at the edges upon seeing Cordelia.

“How was your day at the hospital?” Cordelia asked, like always. Charlotte’s expression fell again.

“I didn’t save them. I had to tell a little boy he would never see his Daddy again.” Cordelia tried to interrupt, to comfort her, but Charlotte pressed on. “Delia, I’m worried about Marvin. He doesn’t look good, not good at all. What if I have to t—“

“Lottie, stop.” Cordelia pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s forehead, then her nose, then her lips. “You won’t have to. It won’t come to that. You are the best doctor I know. You will save him.”

Nothing in Charlotte’s face changes. If anything, she only looked more distressed.

Cordelia missed the days she knew just what to say to Charlotte.

The days she envied her, even, for her ability to change people’s lives. Charlotte held so much power, could hurt or heal with her own hands.

And this fact had never seemed to faze her. It empowered her, even. Defined her. Gave her a purpose.

Something Cordelia lacked.

“But I’ve tried! I’ve seen men die, one after another, from some mysterious disease that no one talks about! Millions possibly dead, and the damn news still isn’t saying anything! I see men kiss their lovers goodbye, I see Whizzer in my mind, I see Marvin in front of me, and above it all, I see no one doing _anything!”_ Charlotte threw her hands in the air, near shouting now.

The only thing Cordelia could think to do was hug her doctor tightly to her, murmuring into her hair, telling her everything would be alright.

She would help Charlotte. She had to. This was her purpose.

* * *

Cordelia had met this wonderful woman in passing, when she was catering for an event at a hospital. There were interns in training, and she was just starting out her business.

She had set her homemade cupcakes and cookies on the fold-up table, along with two glasses of lemonade, and decided to mingle a bit. The older doctors and nurses had all ignored her, brushing past for a bit of food or dry scone she definitely did _not_ provide.

Then, a beautiful, dark-skinned, dark-eyed intern with a stunning smile had approached her and said thank you, my name is Charlotte, and Cordelia was lovestruck.

They went on several failed dates and some good ones, but all of them were fun, and even more so, or even at all so, mainly because it was a Charlotte duBois she was dating.

They had exchanged promise rings on their third anniversary. They couldn't get married, but when it was legal, they would. Cordelia swore it.

After all, had fallen head over heels for this woman. And by the god she didn't quite believe in anymore, she would stand by her.

Even if she was biting off more than she could chew.

She did that constantly enough, with trying new cuisines for her catering business, with the results mediocre at best, inedible at worst.

Baking really was her strong suit, where the chemistry and science of it all made sense.

But cooking, _real_ cooking, was _fun!_ She could experiment and try new things, and if they happened to fail, what of it?

* * *

Cordelia had never defined herself by who she loved. She was a lesbian and Charlotte’s lover, yes, and she loved this. But she was also a caterer, a scientist, a woman, a friend.

Marvin’s friend. Whizzer’s friend.

Someone who wanted to help others.

Someone who didn’t find herself in the position to.

Charlotte defined herself by what she was and who she loved: she saved lives and she loved Cordelia.

That was who Charlotte was, at her core of cores. In her heart, which beat with purpose. Cordelia had been witness to her slaving away at the hospital, destroying herself because of who her love was.

Cordelia was also witness to Charlotte’s other side: the side that loved her, who was content with a life of being an outsider, who yelled at others for calling Cordelia slurs, who didn’t care if it was _Charlotte_ being yelled at because that’s who she _was_. Who kissed Cordelia with the same mouth she performed CPR on a man who had just had a heart attack on the floor in front of the grocery store.

Charlotte duBois felt that she was what she did. She was a lover and a healer.

Who was she when one of those was taken away?

* * *

Marvin had distanced himself when he found out he was sick.

It wasn’t even a week before Cordelia, beginning to suspect something, had knocked down his door and demanded to know what was happening.

Marvin had been kneeling on the floor pathetically, boxes of stuff all around him, holding a light green shirt to his nose. There were tears in his eyes.

Cordelia could see his bones through his skin.

She had rushed over to him and enveloped him in a hug as he broke down again, blubbering like the ugly crier he always was, so much emotion trying to leave him that there was no good way for that to happen.

She knew Marvin had always hated showing emotions, repressed them, pushed them away.

To let her see him like this…

Marvin wasn’t himself.

He had told her how he thought he was sick too, how terrified he was of death, how he wondered if he’d see _him_ again, and he’d laughed, sarcastic and scared, and he’d said how ironic this all was, losing all those he’d loved as soon as he was finally on good terms with them.

Cordelia didn’t think it ironic.

She didn’t say that.

She just hugged Marvin tighter to her, murmuring empty promises they both knew worthless, bringing him to Charlotte, helping him tell Trina, Mendel.

Helping him tell Jason.

* * *

The doorbell rang. Charlotte had been asleep on the sofa, but now she tried sitting up. Cordelia shushed her and had her lie back down, kissing her lover’s cheek.

“I’ll get it, dear doctor.”

Charlotte blinked sleepily and sank back down into the couch. Cordelia walked to the door, opening it to see Jason, backpack on his shoulders, holding his computer. He looked small, vulnerable, out of place standing there alone in the hallway of their apartment.

It wasn’t the nicest building. Not many “sensible” establishments were willing to accept two women in the same apartment, much less two women who were very openly lesbians, wearing their promise rings and being anything but shy about their PDA. But this one was owned by a gay man, and many other queers lived here, which is what Cordelia suspected drew Marvin here after leaving his wife’s house.

That didn’t mean it was a safe place for a kid.

“Come in, Jason!” Cordelia smiled and wrapped him into a hug. He stood still upon the shock of the embrace, being a thirteen-year-old boy, but melted into it a little, being Jason.

“Hi, Delia,” he said, somewhat cheerfully, mixed with something Cordelia couldn’t quite place.

“How are you? How’s Mendel and Trina? Oh, I just can’t wait to show you this beautiful cake I made just for you!” Cordelia babbled on excitedly, missing Jason’s expression entirely. “Oh, Lottie is asleep, she’s been working so much, poor thing, but I was hoping we could hang out together! I got some LEGOs, if you like that, I thought we could put them together, just us!”

“You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?” Jason sounded amused by this, despite his dry words.

Cordelia nodded. “How long are you staying?”

“The weekend.” An entire _weekend_ of Jason! Oh, Cordelia could cry! “It’s hard for Mom and Mendel, having me over on the weekends, since that’s when Dad would…”

“Oh, I know.” Cordelia looked on sadly as Jason's expression fell. An idea came to her, slow and dawning, as though it had been there all along, although she didn’t know it. “We can see him if you like tomorrow!”

Jason didn’t look as excited at the prospect as she thought he would. “It—it’ll just be a reminder. Of what’s happening. And I don’t want to be a bother.” He kicked at the ground. “I saw him yesterday anyways, I don’t want to take up all his time.”

“Aww, kiddo, it’s your dad, he’d be happy to see you!” Cordelia remembered the other part of what he’d said when nothing changed, Jason only growing more skeptical. “And we don’t have to if you don’t want to. I even got those Space Wars movies you like, we can have a marathon!”

“Star Wars,” he corrected, but he looked much happier, so Cordelia counted that as a win.

“And I have popcorn, and cake, and when Lottie wakes up she can play chess with you, and we can all play baseball together, the three of us, and we can stay up as late as you like!”

Cordelia got the sense that she was pushing it a little by the kid’s slightly overwhelmed face, and backed off a bit. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“No—that sounds great. Thanks, Delia.”

She wasn’t too proud to say that she didn’t tear up at that.

* * *

Marvin’s biggest worry had been Jason. How he’d react, how this would affect him, if they would be okay.

When he told Trina and Mendel, they’d both cried (yes, including Mendel; he was a softie) and hugged him, disbelief and horror and terror warring in their eyes. Cordelia and Charlotte had been in the next room as silent support.

Or very vocal support, if Marvin started coughing again.

Next had been Jason.

Cordelia hadn’t been allowed in—she wasn’t family, and Marvin wanted them to be alone when he said it—but she knew this:

Jason walked in confused, but not sad or anything. Kind of neutrally happy.

He walked out angry, eyes red, no hoodie on, storming right out of the room and slamming his door.

The toll this universe had on that kid.

Marvin had simply sat there. He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t say anything. He just sat, the tears rolling down his cheeks, shoulders shaking.

His son would lose him.

He would lose his son.

* * *

Cordelia fell asleep during the third Star Wars movie.

She woke up to a blanket pulled over her, the TV off, Charlotte’s arms around her, and Jason asleep upside down on the couch. There was a small smile on his face, and LEGOs all over the carpet: a disaster waiting to happen.

Cordelia closed her eyes again. She could sleep more; it wasn’t daytime just yet.

* * *

The same day that Jason had found out, ten minutes after he slammed his door, he opened it up again, this time accompanied by Mendel.

He walked back into the room, wiping away tears, and crushed his dad into a hug.

Marvin whispered something into Jason’s ear as he tried to embrace his son.

They’d walked back out together, son clinging to father, father supporting himself on his son.

* * *

The day they learn that there’s a name, Charlotte cries. There’s a mix of sadness, relief, panic. Now that it has a name, there’s a cure, a cause, a chance for someone, someone, to do something.

Cordelia watches her doctor decides that she has to be the one to do something.

Cordelia loses her doctor to the disease, not physically, but mentally, as she frantically tries to save a rapidly dying Marvin.

* * *

The next day, Cordelia ended up going to the hospital alone. Jason had baseball practice, and Charlotte took him.

She had only just entered the hospital room when she heard a groan coming from the bed.

"Delia?"

She gave a shy little wave. "Just me! Am I the only one having déjà vu here?"

Marvin laughed, a laugh which all too quickly turned into a hacking cough. "Come in. You were always barging in on me anyways."

"Yeah, I was usually the one regretting that most." It was true. Cordelia had walked in on some very… _intimate…_ moments far more than she'd like to admit.

"You're the one who somehow got Whizzer to give you a spare key."

"Free food, that's how. Free food and friendship." It was nice to speak with Marvin like this, like it was just another time that Cordelia had stomped in, demanding company, and a laughing Marvin had obliged.

Like the latter wasn't dying.

"Here, I brought gefilte fish!" She held out the Tupperware container full of it. Marvin raised an eyebrow.

"Still trying to make that shit taste good?"

"Hey, I somehow did it earlier!" Cordelia said defensively. "If I did it before, it can happen again."

"Sure, and Jason'll hit another ball." Marvin looked somber. "I miss that kid."

This was a shock to her. "I heard he comes here all the time."

"I mean, I miss when he would _talk_ to me. He's distant, now. Well, not distant—he's the only one who doesn't lie to me about how awful I look. But he's hiding things, I can tell. He won't tell me how he feels about all this, because—”

"He's scared, Marv." She knew there were pounds of sympathy in her eyes, but he deserved it. "He's scared to lose his father. Again." She wasn't saying this right, she knew it, but—

Marvin closed his eyes. "Jason... I love him. A lot. I miss having him over on the weekends. I miss him ranting about dumb baseball things I don't understand or care about. I miss losing to him at chess, dammit!" He exhaled, frustrated, and another round of coughing started.

Cordelia set down the container. "Eat. They're in soup. I tried to make it, like, matzo ball soup? But gefilte fish soup?"

"You do realize that those are two different things, and they don't exactly... _go_ together?"

"Might as well try!"

Marvin rolled his eyes and sighed an exasperated sigh, but he took the container and spoon, which Cordelia took as the success it was. He took a bite, and ever the polite one he was who considered other's emotions, promptly spit it out.

"Jesus, Delia! How much salt did you put in this?"

Cordelia was silent.

"Delia?"

"You want more salt?" Marvin shook his head. "You—you don't like it?"

"The soup is fine," he tried to reassure her, failing slightly, "but the fish definitely doesn't belong."

"Oh." Well, that was a disappointment. “Well, that’s a disappointment.”

Marvin snorted. “Come on, Delia. You’re great at cooking. Just… not Jewish cuisine.”

“I can try!” She said determinately. “Practice makes improvement!”

“When it doesn’t involve gefilte fish, yeah,” Marvin said sarcastically. They grinned at each other across the room before Cordelia walked across to give him a hug.

“You’ll be just fine,” she whispered to him.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he responded.

* * *

“Come on, Jason. Charlotte.” Cordelia had her hands on her hips, determined to win this one battle, dammit!

“Where are we going?” Jason asked.

“On a field trip,” was all Cordelia responded. Jason rolled his eyes. Charlotte raised a single eyebrow.

“Field trip, huh?”

“You’ll love it, babe.” She kissed Charlotte on the cheek as Jason made _gross!_ noises. Thirteen year olds.

“Eww! Stop that, I’m standing right here!”

Charlotte frowned. “It’s not like we’re—”

“Nope! Lalalala, not listening!” Jason out his hands over his ears and yelled that last part. Charlotte retreated across the room.

“Fine. I’m over here now. Happy?”

“Very.”

“I’m not,” pouted Cordelia. Charlotte laughed and smirked. Cordelia felt very, very betrayed. Why was her lover forsaking her like this.

“Come on, lets go wherever you want to go.”

They went to the car, an old, beat up thing, messily painted yellow, that everyone expected to have broken down long ago, and yet it persisted. The seats were well-worn, and Cordelia felt the seat leather worn out where her butt had rested many times.

She drove and drove, Jason playing pocket chess with himself in the backseat, Charlotte staring into the distance in shotgun.

Half an hour later, they reached their destination, right on time. The sun was setting, casting a halo of light on the sky. It was slightly chilly, but she’d brought sweaters in case someone got cold. Cordelia got out and grabbed the supplies from the trunk, feet sinking into the grass and slightly damp earth.

“Why’d you bring us here?” Jason whined, ever the child. (That’s a lie, Cordelia corrected herself. He hasn’t acted like a real child since Marvin came out.)

“To think,” Cordelia said, “and have a picnic. No, I did not make the food,” she reassured a very panicked-looking Jason, who’d only ever had her failed experiments. “It’s all ordered, except the pie, which I assure you I _can_ make taste good.”

“It’s true,” affirmed Charlotte. “I’ve had millions, and not one has ever been burnt or anything.”

“It’s my specialty!”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.” Cordelia spread out the blanket on the ground. “Sit?” She patted the spot next to her. Jason trotted over and sat down gingerly, like he was afraid the picnic blanket was going to eat him.

“I’ll get the basket,” Charlotte offered.

“I’ll come with you,” said Cordelia. “You’ll need two hands to carry _that_ baby.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, grinning a bit. They walked to the car, leaving Jason to fiddle with the fabric.

“I know you’re anxious,” Cordelia said as they walked. Charlotte stopped dead in her tracks, shocked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you, Lottie,” Cordelia spoke gently. “I love you enough to see when you’re suffering, when you’re frightened, when you’re hiding something.”

Charlotte didn’t react visibly. She seemed almost frozen, rooted to the spot. “And what are you saying?”

Cordelia placed a hand on her lover’s shoulder. She wanted to hug her so, so badly, she might cry. She didn’t dare, however, for fear of scaring her doctor away. “Lottie. You can’t do anything. I can’t do anything. No one can do anything, and that’s something we have to accept. You’re the best, most talented doctor in the entire hospital, and if you can’t do anything, no one can. And right now, no one can.”

She placed her other hand on Charlotte’s opposite shoulder and pulled her into a hug from behind, now knowing that Lottie needed it as much as she did. “I’m losing you. I’m right here to support you, and it’s hard on me too, but I haven’t seen your smile, your real smile, since Whizzer was alive. I miss _you._ ”

Cordelia could feel Charlotte shaking against her body. The other woman turned around, Cordelia still holding her, and wrapped her arms around her.

They stood there for a long time.

* * *

The first time Charlotte had kissed Cordelia, she’d melted.

It wasn’t on one of their dates, exactly, but it was when Cordelia was baking cupcakes for a client, a birthday party for five year olds, and Charlotte was helping.

They hung out a lot, casually and not, and they’d went on quite a few dates, but they hadn’t kissed yet. It was in that rare, new part of a relationship where it was just starting, where they didn’t yet know where it was going, and they hadn’t exactly talked about it.

She’d invited Charlotte over, as they’d been trying to schedule a date, but they both had very busy work schedules. Charlotte had the day off for Purim, and they’d agreed to go out for dinner after Cordelia finished these cupcakes.

Speaking of which, Cordelia had just put the cupcake batter into the oven, leaning against the wall with a sigh of relief. Charlotte set the timer as Cordelia started putting away the materials. She started reaching back to untie her apron when Charlotte stopped her.

“Allow me, my lady.”

Cordelia flashed a smile, internally screaming, knowingly blushing. She nodded, allowing Charlotte to untie the strings, allowing her to put the apron gently to the side, allowing her to walk closer, allowing her to touch her lips to Cordelia’s. She melted, like chocolate in a pan, like butter on toast, like a woman kissing her girlfriend.

They separated, then kissed, and kissed, until the timer beeped and beeped and the cupcakes smoked a little.

The birthday party didn’t suffer for their treats being a little overbaked.

* * *

“Where were you?” Jason’s arms were crossed, looking bored and slightly annoyed.

“Like we said, getting the picnic basket.” Cordelia held it up as proof. Jason looked unimpressed, but didn’t pursue the topic.

“Alright, I guess. What kind of food did you get?”

Cordelia set it on the ground. Charlotte was carrying the treats she’d made in her arms. “Open it and see, Jason!” she said cheerfully.

He did, to see several containers full of sandwiches, juice, and fruit.

“That’s… a lot of sandwiches.” he said.

“I got a little carried away…” she said sheepishly. Charlotte laughed at her suffering.

They ate, discussing inconsequential things, doing their best to brush away the heaviness that never quite seemed to leave lately.

When they were done, they sat and looked at the clouds, saying the different shapes they were in, debating whether one was a whale or a muffin. Eventually, Jason seemed to be talking less and less. Cordelia noticed this, and apparently, so did her lover.

“I’m going to go put this away,” said Charlotte. Cordelia started standing up to help her, but the other stopped her. “I can handle it. It’s much less heavy, and besides, we don’t need to bring the pie back yet.”

Cordelia nodded, letting her lover leave with the basket.

“Delia?”

Cordelia turned around to face Jason, who had a resolved look on his face that seemed about to crumble. Crumble like the pie crust she’d made earlier, crumble like the walls he was too young to have.

“Is—is my dad going to be alright?”

Something shattered inside of her. No child should have to see his father die, especially not two of them, especially not when he’s only thirteen, especially not Jason.

“I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me. I know that you’re trying to. I’m not naive.”

“Oh, Jason, I know you’re not. You are so, so strong, and I just wish you didn’t have to deal with all of this. All this loss, this sadness, losing two father figures. You’re not naive. Not after what you’ve gone through.”

Jason broke down, rushed over and hugged Cordelia tight, burying his face in her shirt. She froze at the sudden contact, Jason not being the hug type, but hugged him back, holding him protectively to her chest.

If her blouse was a bit wet when they parted, she didn’t comment on it.

* * *

She didn’t see Jason nearly as often as she’d like.

What with her busy schedule, Jason only being at Marvin’s on weekends, and Marvin being Marvin, it was just difficult.

But when she did see the kid, his eyes would light up like the Christmas tree her family had.

(Since she was the only non-Jew in their little family, she may as well use the metaphor.)

His happy expression never failed to boost her mood. She would never reject an opportunity to see him, no matter how many events she had to cater around that time.

Cordelia loved Jason a lot.

She’d give up sugar before seeing him cry and doing nothing to help.

* * *

The next day, Charlotte told her that Jason had been at the hospital.

He’d stayed there for hours, having lunch there, even, staying until the hospital had closed and the nurse had had to force him out of there, because Trina had to take him home. Even then, Jason had protested, wanting to finish that last game of chess.

According to Charlotte, he’d talked to Marvin a lot.

She hadn’t been able to pick up on it all, but she’d witnessed them hugging at least once, and it’d seemed like they’d both benefited from the hours of conversation.

Even if Marvin didn’t look any better, wasn’t getting any healthier, his relationship with Jason had certainly improved.

At least, as much as it could have.

* * *

“Do you miss him?” Cordelia asked. She didn’t need to say who. He knew.

“More than anything,” he responded, whipping his head around to face her. _What kind of a question is that?_ his eyes seemed to ask. “It doesn’t... it doesn’t seem real that he’s gone. It’s been months, and still. And I just... I want him here. I want him with me. I want him holding me, or kissing my cheek. I just... I miss _him_.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. If anything happened to Charlotte, she didn’t know _what_ she would do. How she’d handle it. _If_ she’d handle it.

She just hugged him, careful not to squeeze too hard or else wreck his ever-too-fragile body.

She wanted to say she was sorry, to say something, do something to make everything better. But she knew that words wouldn’t do anything.

And that broke her heart.

Shattered it like the glass she’d dropped last week.

* * *

They were all there, Trina and Mendel, Charlotte and Cordelia, Jason, all there together with Marvin. There was a notable tension in the air, as there always was, but everyone individually decided to dismiss it with meaningless chatter.

Except Jason.

Brutally honest as always, he said, “Are we pretending everything is fine again?”

Trina looked scandalized. Mendel looked terrified. Charlotte pretended not to hear, and Cordelia didn’t know how she felt.

Marvin laughed, sudden and surprised, coughing and gasping for air. “I guess so, Jason.”

Jason walked forward from where he had been standing in the corner, silently surveying the scene from a distance with eyes older than his thirteen-year-old self. His expression was unreadable, especially to Cordelia, who didn’t know how to read the most basic of moods sometimes.

“Jason,” Trina stage-whispered. “Stop that. You’re making it worse.”

She made to stop him, but Mendel wrapped an arm around her waist. “It’s fine, Trina.”

Jason sat in the chair next to the bed. Marvin put a hand on his shoulder, whispering something into his ear.

“This sucks,” Jason said.

“It really does, kiddo. It really does.”

* * *

“I’m dying, Delia,” he says when Charlotte leaves the room.

She makes to stop him, to reassure him, but he stops her.

“Stop lying. I know I’m close to leaving. It sucks, but I’ve accepted it.”

 _Have you?_ she wants to say. _Or are you just trying to make yourself feel better?_ Nevertheless, she nods. She doesn’t think she could say any of that, anything, even if she wanted to.

“Just—tell Marv I love him, okay? And that I’m sorry. I hope that when I’m gone, he can still find happiness. That he can live a long, happy life, even without me.”

She’s silent.

“Promise me you’ll tell him?” he pleads.

Whizzer looks so, so resigned, so tired, so sad, that she agrees, despite the fact that she isn’t able to do so, later.

“I promise.”

* * *

The one small miracle about this situation is that they’re all there when Marvin dies.

One moment, Cordelia was talking to Mendel about something or another.

The next, Trina, Trina of all people, is kneeling beside Marvin’s bedside, sobbing into the bed.

Mendel rushes to comfort her, Charlotte is trying to do something, _anything_ , but there’s nothing _to_ do, Cordelia just looks at Jason, who is standing there near Charlotte, broken, looking at his father, chessboard still in his hands.

Slowly, she walks to him, walks to Charlotte, and hugs Jason with both arms, clutching him tightly. She pleads at Charlotte to join them, to help Jason, Jason who’s lost two of the adults who could call him their son, two of the closest people to him, all in less than a year.

Finally, Cordelia can’t take it. Charlotte is buzzing around, trying to restart his heart, make that flatline go away, but Cordelia already has her hand on her doctor’s coat and she isn’t letting go.

She yanks her doctor close to her and hugs her, sandwiching Jason between them, and they all break down, sinking to the floor, sobbing, in a huddle of futile comfort.

Mendel pulls Trina over and they join the hug, two notably empty spaces very clear around Jason.

Nobody says anything about “at least he’s in a better place now” or “he’s with Whizzer” or any comfort words they all know are empty.

* * *

She remembers the last days with Marvin.

She remembers how he had been tired, oh so tired. He had been spacey, staring off into space every few minutes for no apparent reason. He had been quiet, uncharacteristically so, letting others speak for him, which he had never done, in his life, ever.

He had scribbled furiously into a notebook, according to Charlotte, mumbling and tearing out pages and crossing out lines and reading his own work with distaste.

He had taken everyone alone to talk.

He had told Cordelia he loved her, that she was her best friend, apart from Charlotte. She had cried, tried to help, tried to shut down his sentimental talk, but he’d refused.

He had refused to admit if he was scared.

Cordelia had let him.

* * *

She remembers the last days with Whizzer.

She remembers his resigned looks, his talks with her about nothing and everything she couldn’t remember, his constant pawing for Marvin’s hand, Marvin’s arm, Marvin’s leg, anything Whizzer could touch and hold and _feel,_ something to anchor him down to the earth.

She remembers his constant exhaustion, how he was always seconds away from sleeping, how he hated that that was all he ever wanted to do.

He’d hated being stuck in bed.

Hated how the sickness was taking everything from him, and he couldn’t even fight back.

How he was going to have Marvin taken from him.

She remembers that time she and Charlotte had come in, and they’d all ignored the fact that he was dying, and they’d reminisced and Marvin had been worried and Whizzer had been terrified and Charlotte had been frantic and Cordelia had felt like she was intruding and they’d all talked until Whizzer had fallen asleep apologetically and Marvin had stayed and Cordelia and Charlotte had left, their hearts left behind with the two men, one who would be gone within the week.

She misses them.

* * *

"There was nothing you could have done," she whispers to her lover, sometime late at night, as they try to brush away images of their friend's face.

"It still hurts," the other says. Her lover embraces her tighter, pressing a kiss to her forehead, cradling her, protecting her from the world.

"I know, baby, but we talked about this. I won't let you disappear again. It's not healthy."

She nods. "Trina is going to make sure they're buried next to each other in the synagogue cemetery," the doctor says. "We're invited to the _shiva_."

"Gosh, I hope that Trina and Mendel are helping that poor kid. He needs a hug or ten."

Charlotte laughs, soft and surprised and genuine, before remembering the topic and sobering up. "He sure does. But they'll take care of it. They're good parents."

"I think so too." Cordelia is silent, for a second. "Will you be okay? I don't know if I will."

"Neither do I, but you know what?" Charlotte turns over in bed to look Cordelia right in the eyes. "I think Marvin would say that he wouldn't want us to worry about his sake. It sounds cheesy, but I have to say it, or it'll all fall apart. Or _I'll_ fall apart. And right now, I'm not okay, but this too shall pass."

"Lottie, I'm not Jewish. I don't know that story." Jason had mentioned it, said it was in a book of his Jewish tales. Something about a ring and King... Salamander? What was his name?

"Want me to tell it to you?" Cordelia nodded, curiosity increasing by the second. "Well, King Solomon was the wisest king there was. One day, he proposed this challenge to his smartest advisor, Benjamin: to find a ring that could make a sad man happy and a happy man sad. He had one year to do this before he was fired for failing the king.

"Benjamin searched high and low, but no jeweler he found could fulfill his strange request.

"Finally, almost the full year had passed, and Benjamin hadn't found the ring. He was all set to give up and head back in shame when he decided to try one last time.

"The old, wizened jeweler he saw had never looked confused at his request, not even once. He'd just gone and fetched the perfect ring. Benjamin, overjoyed, paid and left to see the king.

"Now, Solomon was fully expecting to just fire Benjamin, him having failed, and was extremely shocked to see him returning, but with a ring too. He demanded to see this ring, and Benjamin proudly showed the inscription on it to him:

"This too shall pass."

Charlotte smiled softly at Cordelia. "The king had laughed, long and hard, and rewarded Benjamin handsomely for his success. And he wore the ring every day, for its wisdom was great."

Cordelia kissed her smart, smart lover. She murmured how much she loved her against her lips, gripped for her, smushed their bodies together with all her strength.

She might combust from all this, this wonderful feeling, like that pie in the oven last week.

Charlotte presses a kiss to her neck, stays there, just breathing. "Do you think that there are different marriage laws in other continents?"

"I don't know, but I'd say yes if we could."

"Me too, Lottie." She clutched to her lover tightly, resolving again to never let go.

<

* * *

Three weeks later, she pulls a pair of gefilte fish out of the boiling pot of water. She dishes them out and gives one to her lover, and eats the other herself. Her godson and his family are coming soon, but for now it is only them, taste testing the food for edibility and relaxing.

She had been convinced they'd be too soggy. Every batch always seemed to be, lately.

This was no exception.

But it was, marginally, better than every other one she’d made that year. So there was certainly progress.

Cordelia kisses Charlotte, the taste of the fish on their lips.

She realizes that, you know, it doesn't taste half bad.

In fact, it's alright.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me at nottodaylogic on tumblr, where you can also request some drawings or oneshots for Falsettos because i need some good good domestic prompts 
> 
> (for anyone, not just chardelia)


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